


pay attention (to me)

by thetinyphoenix



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, F/F, Fem!Harringrove, Genderbending, Hopeful Ending, Mild Hurt/Comfort, References to Canon, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington Are Best Friends, Women's Underwear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:54:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27676355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetinyphoenix/pseuds/thetinyphoenix
Summary: “Got another D, pretty girl?” she heard, and the unmistakably snarky tone of voice made her roll her eyes a little as she tried (and failed) to ignore Billie. The brunette could hear the smirk in the other girl’s tone, hated every second it took for the Californian to pronounce two simple words.Pretty. Girl.“I don’t know, maybe Nathan’s just not enough, you know.”
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 4
Kudos: 58





	pay attention (to me)

**Author's Note:**

> took me ages to stop talking about this on twitter and actually write it so hope you enjoy!!
> 
> ps: the first half has been reviewed by elly so MWAH to her

Stevie just stared at her C- with a defeated sigh, chewing on her lower lip, licking a little bit of the pink gloss she wore off, mindlessly. She could feel the burning shame that made her eyes water a little, tears threatening to spill on the roundness of her cheeks, and yet she didn’t start to cry, held them all back only to take a deep breath, mouth twisted into an irritated pout.

After all, her mascara would have smeared if it got too wet.

With a disdained sniff, she straightened up and carefully tucked her very average grade between two of the pages of “On Writing Essays: English Literature and Academic Skills”. She could already picture the disappointment in her father’s eyes when seeing the red letter written right on top of the miserable paper she had handed in a week ago, and her mom’s slightly condescending look, followed by a patronizing “that’s okay, sweetie, you’ll do better next time” that Mrs. Harrington didn’t believe. And Stevie, for once, actually was glad they didn’t care enough about her to bother with being around that much or to really get upset with her grades, in the end. 

“Got another D, pretty girl?” she heard, and the unmistakably snarky tone of voice made her roll her eyes a little as she tried (and failed) to ignore Billie. The brunette could hear the smirk in the other girl’s tone, hated every second it took for the Californian to pronounce two simple words. 

Pretty. Girl.

Stevie knew she was pretty. All long legs, huge eyes, and stunning chocolate hair. She wore it like a mane, loose, smooth strands of honey brown silk cascading down the length of her back to end up in a few shimmering curls that would occasionally end up wrapped playfully around her little finger, just like boys did. Sometimes, the brunette would fall into bed with one of them, usually one or two years older because Carol had told her it would make her look cool, glad to be given what was actually a poor demonstration of affection, but too scared to ask for it again, and so she kept reigning on that little school with no King by her side. Unattainable. Beautiful.

So yes, Stevie Harrington was well aware of how pretty she was, because young men had always made sure to remind her of it, whether it be through silly pick-up lines, too heavy attempts at seduction or what they would call grand gesture, that usually went unnoticed by the Hawkins High’s local Queen Bee. And yet, the way Billie used that nickname, the tone she used to call her pretty managed to make it feel like an insult as if being pretty made her something – someone “less than”.

“I don’t know, maybe Nathan’s just not enough, you know,” Billie added soon, and Stevie blinked, confused, a slight frown on her face drawing her brows close to each other as she turned around, lips pinched together. She opened her mouth to say something – about to ask what the hell Nathan had to do with her grades, before actually realizing what little joke the blonde had just made, and her cheeks turned red immediately. Seemingly catching onto the idea that the brunette had understood the innuendo, Billie flicked her tongue – and Stevie thought of it as utterly obnoxious, unbothered by the harsh glare it earned her. “Kind of exudes small dick energy, don’t you think?” she asked, and Stevie just turned back around with a huff.

She knew she shouldn’t pay attention to Billie, yet indifference always felt like defeat to the brunette. She couldn’t help it, always had to push back and then usually would regret it as soon as she’d see the contented grin on the other girl’s face, only to realize soon after any reaction meant defeat as well. So, every time, the blonde managed to eventually get a rise out of her one way or another, despite all of Stevie’s miserable attempts at ignoring her royally, because Billie would always win anyway. She needed to get rid of the blonde one way or another, and yet it seemed like nothing worked. 

The more she ignored, the more Billie pushed it. 

The more Stevie pushed back, the more Billie kept pushing still.

The brunette had eventually come to the conclusion the Californian was just like an itch she couldn’t scratch, right under his skin. Too itchy for her to just let it go, and yet she knew any move would only make the itching worse.

The bell rang, and she didn’t know which superior entity she mouthed “thank you” to, grabbing her bag to run outside of class. Far away from a pair of piercing blue eyes and a wide, satisfied smirk.

*

When Billie Hargrove had arrived in small-town Hawkins, the first thing she had thought was that she’d rather have ended anywhere else but this very shitty place. This only had been further confirmed when she entered the parking lot of her new school, after a weekend of unpacking equally shitty decoration that belonged to her stepmother and placing a few posters on the walls of her own room to make it seem a little less cruelly impersonal – trying to ignore the fact not sharing her space with Maxine anymore came at a price that took the shape of a lock on the outside of her door. 

Billie had entered the parking lot of her new school as if she belonged there, or as if she belonged there just enough for people to accept her all the while thinking she was built for a bigger place – because it was true, she was meant for rolling beaches and sunny waves – or the other way around. She came tumbling in tight jeans, tight shirts, to compensate for the fact she wasn’t curvy like some other girls were, accentuating the graceful lines of her waist and lean body, showing off just enough for people to want to see more. Confident in how good she looked, chewing on some gum as she had headed towards the entrance of Hawkins High, knowing full-well all gazes were on her since she’d pulled up in the parking lot, the Scorpions playing too loud for people not to notice and realize already that Billie Hargrove wouldn’t go by unseen. 

Stevie had hated her the moment their gazes locked. Ocean blue eyes meeting honey brown.

It wasn’t like the brunette would have automatically started hating on any newbie showing up at school. If it was a boy, then pre-Nathan Stevie would have gone all flirty and adorable, granted he was good-looking, but now she just ignored them, made sure they would want her without actually returning their affection, which wasn’t too different from how she treated every other guy she wasn’t interested in – meaning every guy but Nathan. 

Usually, she’d get all sweet and maybe a little hypocritical with the newly arrived student if she was a girl, to judge whether said girl could integrate her little squad or if she had to establish clear dominance and make it known she was a force to be reckoned with in Hawkins High. Yeah, if the new girl happened to be a little too interesting, she would turn into a…

Well, Billie would have said a brat. But then again, Billie would have called Stevie a brat for pretty much anything.

Stevie was with Nathan when the Californian barged in the parking lot in a blue Chevy Camaro for the very first time. She had been trying to explain to her boyfriend how her grandpa fighting the war was linked to the last game the Hawkins basketball team won against Oliver Springs, all of that being a metaphor of her life, when the car pulled up in the nearest parking spot, making both their heads turn. Which, Stevie would never admit, actually came up at a pretty right moment, because she was just about to cry after Nate told her she’d basically have to start from scratch and that her paper, indeed, wasn’t worth much more than a very average grade. 

Billie looked interesting.

So yeah, Stevie had hated her the moment their gazes locked. Hated the fact that these piercing blue eyes, when they settled on her for the very first time, made her feel seen in the most displeasing way, as the brunette leaned towards the car door of her BMW, the cerulean gaze of a stranger looking her up and down only to turn away from her a moment later, smirk painted on supple lips painted red. The Californian had let out a scoff, apparently winked at three boys too busy eyeing her to be even remotely subtle and she had then headed towards the school entrance without paying any more attention to Stevie.

Which, rude.

*

When Billie Hargrove entered the classroom the next day, she wasn’t all too surprised to be faced with a really bitchy Stevie who purposely ignored her as she walked by, and didn’t say anything when the Californian sat down right behind her, as usual, short nails tapping lightly against the wood of her desk table. This only made the blonde smile, as she watched how the slightly taller girl kept her chin up high, the slight tension in her shoulders just enough to show maybe she wasn’t entirely unbothered by the other’s presence, expecting a snarky comment at any second now. 

“Looking good today, pretty,” she commented instead with a mischievous smirk, could almost see the blush climbing up the brunette’s cheeks without even facing her, because no matter how petty Stevie could get, she always got touched by any compliment thrown her way, flustered if it came from Billie. Stevie surely wasn’t expecting anything so kind as that, and probably didn’t even believe any of the words the blonde had just said, and maybe this was for the best, the latter thought. Going around and calling other girls pretty was definitely fine, girls did it all the time whether out of hypocrisy or genuine admiration, but Billie didn’t need anyone to ever suspect or know just how much she meant every praise she dedicated to Stevie. 

The thing was that Harrington had to be the prettiest girl she’d ever seen in her entire life – which meant a lot because Billie had seen her fair share of sun-kissed silhouettes and cute faces. Plenty of bitches in the sea, and it would be a shame to waste some time trying to count them in the Californian waters. 

Maybe the blonde frequently used “pretty” as an insult towards the other, but in the end, her mocking tone was meant to diminish how much these words burnt Billie’s tongue each time they would slip, fall past her lips and remind her of how wrong this all was, how disgusting it was for her to think of Stevie as pretty in a way that wasn’t bordering on actual admiration but desire. She couldn’t help it, though, seeing the other girl strutting down the hallway with a pretty smile on her lips and that crazy amount of hair, batting her eyelashes way too much as she hung on Nathan Wheeler’s arm, Bambi eyes looking up at that prissy (and lucky) son of a bitch while Billie was busy standing there wishing she was him.

She rolled her eyes. Since when did she want to be in Wheeler’s place? All she wanted so far was to get a taste of Stevie, kiss her neck, and rock her world, not to actually date her when all she had learned was that wanting something wasn’t allowed for her, that she couldn’t afford it because it only meant more deceptions and hurt. Plus, Harrington was a brat, fucking annoying, and jeez she asked the dumbest questions in class. She put bagel crumbs everywhere when she ate and would always miss the first period of English classes because she was absolutely bad at it and then blame it on the school bus even though she had a goddamn car. Really, Stevie Harrington was the furthest thing away from Billie’s type, and yet, for some reason, the Californian was obsessed. Wanted those doe eyes on her, wanted Stevie to look at her, and it didn’t matter whether it was out of annoyance or burning hatred, because either way Billie didn’t deserve passion. 

“I’m not talking to you,” Stevie answered eventually even though Billie had given up on getting any answer, and it was barely a whisper, almost too little for the Californian to hear it through her cloud of thoughts, elbows resting on the wood of her desk before she sat back down against her chair, suddenly way more aware. She hummed, eyes falling on the loose strands of brown hair tucked back behind the brunette’s ear, the way it curled right above the other’s waist, and she didn’t bother with looking up too quickly when she saw Stevie’s whole body twist and turn back around to meet her gaze, glare rendered a little less intense by how pink her cheeks became when she found Billie truly staring. 

“Didn’t say nothing, princess.” She said, eyes flicking towards the door to check Mrs. Click wouldn’t be barging in too soon and leaned towards her classmate with a shark-like grin. “Want me to call you pretty again?” She continued with another satisfied hum when the blush on the other’s face darkened and her glare hardened. Billie could tell she was trying to hold back an annoyed huff, didn’t quite catch what prevented the brunette to indulge her own pettiness. 

“Don’t call me a princess. Also, I wanted to say you looked pretty too today, but your curls actually seem a little dry, you should consider swapping shampoo. You never know, a bird might decide to nest in it someday.”

Billie’s jaw nearly dropped when she heard that, looked in disbelief at the brunette smiling so innocently, lips shining with gloss and so terribly tempting the Californian wanted to lick it off, big brown eyes filled with the knowledge of what she just had said, bubbling joy in her gaze indicating how good she thought her retaliation had been. That’s when Billie realized Stevie Harrington was a fucking bitch. 

She had never been so turned on in her entire life.

*

Mrs. Click had to be the worst professor in American history, but for once this wasn’t exactly the reason why Billie was shooting her a mean glare, blue eyes throwing daggers towards the old lady who wouldn’t notice it anyway, seeing how she was squinting her eyes to try and make out what was written down on her notebook. The blonde wasn’t even mad because Click somehow managed to butcher Jane Austen’s language once more and offer them useless – not to say completely ridiculous, insights on Pride and Prejudice, or because she’d given her last essay a B+ when she clearly deserved an A. 

No, she was mad because the Californian was just about to retaliate with some brilliant comeback when the teacher entered the room, and she usually wouldn’t have paid much attention to it and kept bickering with Stevie mindlessly, but she’d already gotten a two-hour detention last week and her ribs still hurt from the painful welcome she’d gotten once back home. Plus, Stevie had taken it as an opportunity to straighten up and go back to ignoring her. She did not turn back to Billy once. So of course, the latter just kept glaring pointlessly at their teacher who still didn’t seem to care one bit, arms crossed on her chest and, from time to time, glancing at the brunette sitting down in front of her as if the intensity of her gaze would finally make her turn around. 

The professor was busy writing on the blackboard, back to the students when the worst idea came through Billie’s mind. It was dumb, very much questionable and childish, but also pretty much brilliant if she wanted to get the pretty brunette’s attention, she thought. And when it came to annoying Stevie ‘the Hair’ Harrington, there wasn’t much the Californian wasn’t willing to do. Pretty much everything was worth the sacrifice if only it meant having the brunette look and pay attention to her.

She glanced at their teacher, who was still busy writing – and misspelled the name of George Wickham on the whiteboard, and then back at the brown curls that framed the nice flowery blouse of her classmate, eyes roaming over the white roses blooming on the silky material, turning red as if painted, where they reached the hem of the top and the end of the brunette’s sleeves. Billie briefly thought about Alice in Wonderland as she leaned forward. It only took one moment for her to unfasten the hook of Stevie’s bra, her smile spreading on her face so wide it could have reached his ears when she heard the muffled gasp of the other girl whose head turned back to Billie instantly.

If looks could kill, the Californian would have been hit right in place by thousands of lightning bolts thrown by Zeus himself.

Yes, Billie Hargrove would have been swept off the surface of the Earth if the glare she got from Stevie could by any mean interfere in the grand scheme of her existence, but Stevie’s only power was to flush, beet red as she scrambled to readjust her bra clumsily before anyone could notice the way her blouse rested slightly differently on her chest, now. She noticed the really curious look Robin Buckley gave her, sitting two desks away – if sitting could describe the way he was hunched over his chair with his legs everywhere but on the floor, an amused smirk painted on his lips. Stevie certainly would have called him a perv if she hadn’t known for a fact that boy was as queer as Sir Elton John. 

“Got something to worry about, pretty girl?” she heard and could have started yelling at the blonde’s face if that didn’t mean getting expelled from a class she clearly wasn’t doing too brilliantly in, or shifting everyone’s focus on her, which, for once, wasn’t really anything close to a too-good idea since she was still holding the straps of her bra in a pathetic attempt not to have it slide off her completely. Billie’s too-sweet tone almost made her change her mind, though, innocence laced in the usually snarky voice, and she contemplated the idea of just storming off and go see Mrs. Click at the end of the class to complain about her classmate.

“I hate you, Hargrove,” she mumbled eventually, weirdly reasonable for once as she didn’t feel like any of those options would leave her reputation unharmed, and Stevie spent the rest of the lesson with her arm crossed over her chest, awfully close to her own desk with her cheeks burning with shame and something close to utter frustration. 

She did ignore Billie until the bell rang, but it was safe to say that, for once, the curly-haired girl didn’t seem to mind. 

*

“… Also, have you seen her face? And how she kept talking to me during the whole class when I made it really clear I didn’t NOT want to talk with her, and I swear to God I hate that girl! Who does she think she is, with her gorgeous hair and smug smile? She isn’t even that pretty. Also, undoing my bra in front of the whole class? Could she be any more childish? She’s lucky no one saw anything or else I would have been so embarrassed.” 

Lips twisted in a pout around an already half-burnt cigarette although she hadn’t even taken more than a drag just yet, Stevie was rambling, unphased by the fate of its pathetic burning end that kept smoking faintly. She had started venting to the tall boy ten minutes ago already, and he rolled his eyes for the tenth time at the very least, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he kept listening to his best friend complaining about the new girl with a burning passion. 

The both of them were sat in some toilets that were now out of service, in one of the old wings of Hawkins High which had been left uncared for and just declared inaccessible about ten years ago. It looked wild, scattered tiles here and there, some plants growing and climbing up the brick walls that were covered in stupid punchlines, ugly scribblings, and way too many phone numbers. Stevie’s gaze fell on red writings on the door, reading “Buckley’s a sissy”, and she rolled her eyes just like Robin did three seconds ago, going to crush the cigarette against the scarlet words which soon turned into an ugly black circle into the wood of the door. “Better,” she concluded with a satisfied hum.

They met there at least once a week, maybe two, to play cards and have lunch, or when Stevie needed some advice from a trusted friend, while she couldn’t really hang out with Robin openly or else they’d both get shit from Tommy and Carol – who he didn’t like too much anyway. Despite the fact the only child of the Buckley family sometimes would meet other people here, sitting in one of the toilets stall while they’d slip a few dollars bills under it in exchange for English assignments, the Queen of Hawkins liked to think it was their place. Loved to think they had a place together because she had never had a best friend like him. Someone to truly give a shit about her, and who she did not have to pretend so much around.

“I mean, you got to admit it was at least a little fun, dingus.” Robin finally said, interrupting the never-ending stream of words leaving the supple lips of the brunette, and he hummed, gaze falling back on the set of cards in his hands, throwing two on top of the deck sprawled between him and her. He ignored her annoyed huff, didn’t really pay attention to whether it was meant to be the direct result of his particularly lucky hand or his comment. 

“It wasn’t.”

“Okay, except for it was.” he kept singing, but quickly stopped when he noticed to way Stevie’s face kept shaking her head and turned a little red, apparently really upset with what happened earlier today with the blonde girl. Robin sighed. He knew all too well how Billie never let go of his friend, kept pushing and poking her whenever she had the chance, and, the truth was, he also knew why the Californian acted the way she did. 

And yes, the narrative of little boys pulling the pigtails of the girl they liked was pretty catastrophic to uphold, but Rob wasn’t the one who had raised Billie, Billie was a girl, and he certainly wasn’t one to judge, knowing how awful he had been to Thomas Thompson the day before – since apparently, telling him his singing sounded just like Muppet wasn’t a compliment. 

“Look, I know she’s a bitch, but haven’t you thought about the fact she just wants to be friends with you and is just really, really bad at showing it?” he finally asked, in an attempt to sound nonchalant enough for Stevie not to get overly dramatic with seeing him so interested for once, but not too much so she wouldn’t grow vexed somehow or even storm off while screaming at him for not being invested enough in her whatever-life – not to say “love”. 

Which, admittedly, was a little dramatic in itself as well. 

“Friends? Have you just implied she maybe wants to be friends with me when all she does is pissing me off?” he heard and looked through one raised brow at her horrified (and exaggerated) expression, doe eyes wide, framed by endless lashes that made him wonder for the thousandth time whether they actually were fake or not. 

Robin paused. Sure, Stevie was his best friend, but he knew better than to out someone else when they clearly were still in the closet, especially given how people like he and Billie were seen and treated here in Hawkins. Also, it wasn’t entirely his fault that Stevie was absolutely clueless, and she had to figure that out on her own, for once. He grabbed the sandwich that was left next to the deck of cards, taking a huge bite of bread and scrambled, cold eggs soaked in ketchup, not even bothering with swallowing and therefore earning a disgusted look from her as he replied:

“No, you’re right, it’s stupid.”

*

You know what was even more stupid than thinking Billie Hargrove wanted to be friends with Stevie Harrington?

For Stevie Harrington to go at Tina’s party, the day after her encounter with the meanest Californian (and, admittedly, the only one) she had ever met. 

Admittedly, it had nothing to do with said Californian this time, but everything to do with her newest boyfriend Nathan Wheeler. Nate, for short. The guy she’d fell head over heels a year before, who she practically ditched Tommy and Carol for, and who would sometimes make her feel so stupid because he was a grade-A student way too judgy not to laugh when he’d correct the shitty essays of his dear, and so dumb, girlfriend.

Robin just grabbed another red solo cup from a nice girl named Samantha, as he watched people trade longing looks, try to swallow each other’s tongues or undress while dancing, standing on tables. He snorted when he noticed Billie wiping her mouth after god knows how many beers (probably too many for a regular person to still walk straight), but his attention turned back to Stevie when he heard her scream. He was about to ask her what was going on when he noticed the red stain on her shirt, snow white and now soaked with a really awful punch some weirdo had called “pure fuel” when he arrived. He bit on his lower lip not to start laughing, just looked at his best friend’s lips, turned into a thin line as she pushed Nathan away to get to the bathroom. He followed, and by the way he was barely standing, Robin guessed he was the one who caused that little incident. 

He didn’t think much more about it, left Stevie to take care of her shirt on her own. Judging by his own cuffed jeans that looked like they’d been attacked by a dozen enraged kittens, it was probably for the best too. With his drink in hand, he just crossed the room in a few steps, licking away the alcohol on his lower lip as he felt one lean but strong arm wrap around his shoulders. Rob shot a little smile at Billie, who stole his drink from him in a sec, as she dragged him outside, the both of them soon sitting under the front porch.

“Want one?” Billie asked, her pack of cigarettes thrown between them as soon as his butt landed on the wooden step, and he considered saying no before actually going for one. One couldn’t hurt, right?

“So, what’s up, Hargrove?” he asked after a moment, as he leaned towards the blonde girl, cigarette pinched between his lips as he talked, mumbled, really. Robin wasn’t smiling, but he might as well have, Billie thought as she actually considered the question. She knew all too well Buckley wasn’t interested in whatever she had to say about today’s classes. He didn’t care about the fact she’d puked over Tommy H.’s shoes less than thirty minutes ago. No, Robin Buckley wanted to know what was up with Stevie, because she knew the princess had told him everything yesterday about their little interaction.

“Cut the bullshit, I know she told you everything. Funny you’re the one asking, though, because I would have sworn she’d talk about it to her other boyfriend, first.” She mocked, groaning as the flame didn’t quite catch the end of her cigarette. 

“C’mon, don’t be a bitch.”

“I’m not.”

“Why did you do it?”

“She’s got nice tits.”

Robin rolled his eyes.

The worst thing was, he knew Billie wasn’t lying.

“So what, you’re just going to… randomly unhook her bra because she’s got nice tits?” Robin said, pinching the bridge of his nose like he couldn't even _believe_ he was heaving that conversation.

“Yeah, thought I was doing them justice, you know? Free the titties, Buckley.” She concluded, groaning as she blew some smoke in his face, and he flicked her nose, smirking at the way she scrunched it up. That was cute, considering Billie was… Billie. All sharp words, piercing gaze, and, he could only guess, a really mean right hook.

“I cannot believe you outsmarted me in English lit, perv.”

“I outsmart you in basically every class, nerd.” 

Billie smirked. She then turned her face towards the blonde guy and leaned towards him, slightly. She was about to say something real, for once, tell him about how she just wanted Stevie to turn back to look at her for a little while. Knew he, of all people, could understand because she had seen the way he looked at Thompson when he thought no one was looking. Maybe no one was, really. 

Admittedly, Stevie’s body was nice to look at, in a rather hypnotizing way. At one point, Billie hadn’t understood whether she wanted to be this girl or to have her. It had been difficult to pinpoint the exact moment where jealousy turned into _wanting_. So damn bad she thought she’d go crazy at some point, trying not to look whenever she’d stand next to Stevie in the showers after PE, at the way one wet strand of dark brown hair would curl just right, locks brushing against the pale skin of one perfect nipple. 

Billie had nice boobs, sure, but they were small. 

It wasn’t something she let herself think about too much anymore, though. She would tell Stevie they were perfect to fit in her hands. 

“I don’t know, man. I just thought this would be funny. Was worth it, seeing her glare. Spare me the bullshit, now, I know it was shitty, I’ll apologize to her. Someday.”

She blew some more smoke in Robin’s face. Smiled when he laughed and breathed out a smug “I know” called her a mean bitch. 

*

She wiped her eyes, coat in her hand as she ran across the room. Better than let everyone see her cry like the pathetic, useless loser she would become if anyone guessed she’d just started crying in public, let alone about fucking Nathan Wheeler. She had a reputation to uphold.

“Leaving early, princess?” 

Stevie closed her eyes as she took a deep breath, nails digging in the palm of her hand as she tried to remain as calm as one can be when provoked once again.

Tonight couldn’t have gotten worse.

“What, Hargrove? What do you want?” she snapped, turning back to face the Californian with a mean look on her face, sadness turned into some unexpected anger towards the girl who had gotten under her skin from the moment she got out of that stupid blue car. Billie frowned, seeing all of the makeup smeared underneath the brunette’s eyes, opened her mouth to actually ask whether Stevie was okay, but the latter didn’t want to hear any of it. When she heard no reply, she kept on rambling, words leaving her mouth before she could even think about taking them back. “What are you waiting for? Taking my bra off? ‘s that what turns you on, Hargrove? You got some big fat lesbian crush on me or what?” 

She didn’t wait for an answer before running towards her Beamer, fidgeting with her hands nervously as she heard laughter and a scoff. 

*

Stevie Harrington was prettier than ever when she came to school on Monday as if the week prior had been forgotten completely over the weekend. She didn’t look sad, let alone heartbroken, in her black shirt, blue jeans, lips painted cherry red, and moving around some gum she’d probably stolen from Carol. She didn’t go to talk to Nate when he interrupted the cheerleading rehearsal after lunch, and she certainly didn’t greet Johanna Byers with the polite smile she usually would give her. 

They were both bullshit, she reminded herself as she pushed herself harder than before, landing on her feet after some particularly hard figure, a proud smile painted on an equally pretty face. It was their loss, really – more so Nate’s than Johanna’s but whatever. She could have been a good friend, a better girlfriend, if they’d ever bothered to return her affection, to ask, or to be a little more honest. If she hadn’t been third-wheeling whatever was going on between these two, for the past six months, also.

Stevie was in love, but she wasn’t the idiot everyone seemed to think she was. And she certainly wasn’t anyone’s second pick.

She took her last break with Robin, had already told him everything during lunch – which he already knew because, turns out she had already already told him what happened on the phone, last Saturday. He didn’t mind, let her hold his hand for reassurance as they sat not-so-quietly next to the basketball pitch, in the grass. Called her a dingus once or twice, maybe more, but enjoyed her company, enjoyed less the way her eyes got a little wet as she let it all out once more. Wondered if _this_ wasn’t even worse, in the end, than have her sobbing on the other end of a phone.

“I love you, you know that?” he asked.

“Yeah, I know.”

Her head fell on his shoulder as they stayed there until the bell rang. He wished her good luck in her last class. 

Billie was already there when Stevie arrived, a little late, though their teacher thankfully hadn’t arrived either just yet. The Californian was reading something. Probably some stupid English literature Stevie would never consider reading the title of, and yet she didn’t say anything for once. Couldn’t come up with anything, really, as she just stared at the book cover for a moment before snapping out of it. 

She looked around, wondered if there was any other seat, just to make it seem like she’d ever considered sitting elsewhere. With a soft hum, she sat down eventually, elbows resting gracefully on the wooden desk in front of the one and only Billie Hargrove.

She wondered for a moment if she’d really pissed the blonde off, that night, at Tina’s. 

One hand brushing away a dark lock, putting it back behind her own ear, she licked her lower lip. 

She felt one hand on the center of her back two seconds after the teacher (who had actually gotten there in the meantime) started his lesson. Tried not to blush, this time, feeling the embarrassment and something warm settle in her stomach. Allowed herself to really think about Billie touching her, now that they were back to their little, silly games. 

There was one person who’d never let her down, she realized. 

Who would never fail to give her every second of the day.

Who would pay attention to _Stevie_ when Nate was probably too busy dreaming about fucking _Johanna_. 

And that person was the most obnoxious girl she’d ever met. An itch she couldn’t scratch, right under his skin. Too itchy for her to just let it go, and yet she knew any move would only make the itching worse. But an itch that was there. Something so damn constant and annoying at the same time, but that still felt like normalcy. Something that never failed to push the right buttons for Stevie to feel like the worst thing she had to worry about was the awful teasing of a girl she probably didn’t even hate.

She'd always thought everything felt like defeat against Billie Hargrove. Maybe she actually was winning this whole time.

She closed her eyes, cheeks burning.

Bold. It was bold.

Billie’s laughter echoed on the walls of the whole room when her fingers found nothing underneath the black fabric.

No bra.

“That’s how you do it, Hawkins. That’s how you do it.” 


End file.
